


Battered and Bruised

by hoaxsuicide (orphan_account)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: First Time, Fluffy, Frottage, Grinding, Kissing, M/M, Oral, Sex, Smut, Virgin!Sherlock, a little angsty, but not much angst, virgin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-03
Updated: 2013-06-03
Packaged: 2017-12-13 21:13:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/828955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/hoaxsuicide
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Slowly, Sherlock Holmes turned to face John and John's stomach turned cold.<br/>"What the hell happened Sherlock?!"'</p><p>When John wakes up, Sherlock isn't in the flat, so where did he go?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Battered and Bruised

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, this is smut...just so you're warned (but you knew that already, am i right?)  
> See end notes for Prompt credits!

Sherlock had gone missing.

There, he said it.

He’d not been in his usual place (sprawled across the sofa in his night wear) when John had woken up this morning and he hadn’t seen him since.

It was now 2 AM.

John would be lying if he said that he wasn’t a panicked mess right now. He hadn’t been able to sit still since 3’o’clock passed and the doctor was now pacing up and down the flat, unable to sleep.

Where the hell could he have gone?!

 He’d considered calling Lestrade but the police only tended to missing people when they had been absent for 24 hours…it hadn’t been 24 hours yet.

Also, this was Sherlock Holmes he was talking about, the bastard was probably down at the morgue and John was worrying for nothing.

He tried to laugh, but it wasn’t funny.

“Oh Jesus.” He whispered in despair as he plonked himself down on the armchair.

Somehow, John had resisted the urge to go out looking for him, something in his gut had just told him that Sherlock wouldn’t need his help.

It was the very same gut instinct one would feel if they’ve been in a long term relationship with someone or if they were close siblings.

Sherlock and John had always shared a sort of telepathic way of communicating; I suppose you had to when you lived with a man that wouldn’t speak for days, and it was this radar that was niggling in the back of his mind now.

‘ _He’s fine, you’re fine, and he’s going to be fine. He’ll come home now, just you wait…in fact, he’s home already’_

John's stomach lurched as he heard the door downstairs open and he bolted up from his chair so quickly he almost fainted.

The room was dark save the light that crept through the window, the orange of the street lights spilling across the carpets as the door slowly opened.

Guiltily, one might say, like he was trying not to wake a dog when it had only just gotten to sleep.

Only this dog hadn’t gone to sleep.

No, this dog was up and Sherlock better beware because this dog was angry.

Watson watched the slender shadow that was Sherlock Holmes creep across the room, unaware that his flatmate was stood a few inches from him.

That was until John cleared his throat.

Holmes, for once in his life, hadn’t expected that and the surprise showed as he almost fell over backwards.

And then he suddenly turned around, bolted almost; desperate to show his back to John and not his face.

_Oh shit._

John momentarily let the whole ‘missing’ thing slide (that’s not to say he wouldn’t bring it up later though).

“What’s wrong Sherlock?” he sounded like his mother when she had just walked in on him fuming from an argument he’d had with Harry.

Silence.

John leant over and turned on a lamp, the light cast sharp shadows over the floor and gave his face a sinister look.

Sherlock flinched, still facing away from John but apparently unable to move.

“What’s the matter, where have you been?” John started again, but the real burning question was still on the tip of his tongue.

“I-I…” Sherlock started.

“Turn to face me.” His voice was cold steel, not to be messed with.

“John, I insist I’m fi-“

“Sherlock…” Sherlock flinched “Turn.to.face.me.”

Sherlock fidgeted on the spot, seemingly running through all the possibilities in his head.

Even if he ran now, he would still have to look John in the eyes sometime so it was better to get it over and done with now.

Slowly, like a guilty puppy that had stolen the Christmas roast, Sherlock turned to face John.

_Oh, oh my god._

John's stomach did somersaults over and over again, he wanted to be sick but his mouth was dry.

Sherlock's eye had swollen and now stood like a blooming purple flower on the right side of his face, yellow around the edges and the eye squinted shut.

It was ugly, standing out like a sore thumb against his white skin which was pasty with sweat and blood.

As John studied closer, his heart racing the whole time, he realised that Sherlock's lip was bust and also swollen, he had a cut on his left cheek bone and yet another bruise was forming.

“Oh, bloody hell Sherlock, what the hell happened!?” John roared and for once Sherlock looked lost.

He was staring at the floor as if it had personally wronged him.

“It was just a case John…” he mumbled, sounding like he wanted to get out of here and lock himself in his room for days.

“ _Just_ a case…JUST a case!?” he had lost it now, any sense of self control had gone and now he was just angry.

“Yeah, okay, _just_ a case that you _disappear_ for _hours on end_ for!” he spat, throwing his hands up in the air.

He jabbed a finger at Sherlock who was stood silent.

“You…you _bastard!_ ” John took a menacing step forwards “Do you have _any_ idea how worried I was, _any at all, did that even cross you mind you SELFISH BASTARD!?”_ Watson turned away from the man, stalking across the room to try and calm his nerves only to find himself stalking back up to the wounded detective and grabbing him by the coat lapels.

Sherlock yelped and stumbled back, keeping complete- and slightly terrified- eye contact with John as he drove him back against a wall.

“You _fucker!_ ” he continued, snarling in the sleuth’s face, completely smashing him against the wall.

He knew he shouldn’t , he knew it was bad enough that he had a black eye but god damn it he was so _god damn_ angry he couldn’t help it.

Sherlock looked down at John with surprisingly calm eyes (eye…) as he continued to throw insults in his battered face.

“You _idiot_ , if you told me…if I were there then I could have…you wouldn’t have…this wouldn’t have…” he stumbled over his words, cursing his voice for cracking and his eyes for avoiding Sherlock's.

“Why should it matter to you anyway…” the baritone voice cut through him like a hot fire poker and John brought his eyes up to the taller man’s once more.

There was a painful silence.

John couldn’t help but feel a stab of guilt as he looked as Sherlock's face, if only he were there, if only John Watson had saved the day.

But no, he wasn’t a prince and this wasn’t a fairy-tale, this was life.

Cold, hard life and John couldn’t do anything.

He couldn’t do anything because he was useless.

“I’m so sorry” he sobbed and loosened his grip on Sherlock's coat, lulling his head into the taller man’s chest. “I’m so sorry Sherlock, if only I’d gone to look for you, if only I hadn’t waited I could have-“

“You’re ignoring my question” Sherlock's deep voice vibrated from his chest as he spoke.

John froze, _oh yeah_.

“Well… why do _you_ care?”

The way he said it, the way he spat around the words as if he wasn’t worthy of _caring_ , John couldn’t help it.

The good doctor’s head snapped up to face Sherlock and his grip tightened once more, Sherlock shifted uncomfortably but otherwise seemed un-phased.

John hated that, he wanted Sherlock to feel something for once, to taste the emotions as they tore from his throat, until the very reason he _screamed_ was because of emotion and that the emotion swallowed him up until he fucking _felt something for once!_

So, without knowing what he was doing, John was screaming,

“ _Because I fucking love you, you arsehole!”_

_Oh…shit._

Sherlock's eye had gone very wide and the pupil very small until it looked as if he was on some sort of drug. His face had emotion, yes, but it was a lot of mixed emotions and not something someone could read very well without at least one satnav, two guide books and a map.

John didn’t have any of those.

A cold sense of dread washed over him like a bucket of water that trickled from the crown of his hair through down to his toes.

Watson’s eyes were fuzzy and all he could attach himself to were his thoughts.

_Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh god, what now?_

_This is it John Watson, you’ve done it now, you’ve blown it._

_You’re friendship is ruined now you wanker, how do you feel about that?_

_You should have just kept these stupid emotions to yourself, even if it meant another five therapists, you should have kept it inside._

_But no, now it’s out in the open._

_What ya gonna do Johnny boy?_

_Where ya gonna go now?_

_He’s surely going to kick you out you arsehole, time to move back to Harry’s and forget this majestic creature that is Sherlock Holmes._

More silence and John couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Just…say something, get it over with…” he sighed and let go of Sherlock, stepping back in all his shame.

More silence.

John sighed again and tried very hard not to sob as he said the dreaded but unavoidable words.

“I’ll…I’ll go pack up my stuff, it was nice…” he nodded “Yeah…nice to know you, while it lasted I mean. I… um…” and with that he did a sharp turn and began to walk away.

“John.”

The doctor froze but really he wanted nothing more than to walk away, he couldn’t stand it.

He just couldn’t stand to hear Sherlock say it, tell him he was a freak.

“…John…” that voice was suddenly very close behind him and before John could register what was happening, there was a hand on his shoulder gently pulling him back into a bear hug.

John shivered, what was this?

Could it actually mean that…no…

He felt breath on the crook of his neck, hot breath that made his spine seize up with little spasms of pleasure as it stroked his skin.

“I’ve…I’ve never done this before…is it any good, am I hurting you?” Sherlock's baritone, silky voice was oh so very close to his ear that John found it hard to speak and not squeak.

“No, no…god no, this is…good…” he breathed, falling further back into Sherlock's warm frame.

He could feel Holmes take a breath before he began speaking, that rich voice rumbling against his neck and filling him with the most sensual feeling he had ever experienced.

“I don’t know what it means…um…you know to be in…love with someone and…” he paused “And…and I also have no other experience to go on but…but I’m not usually wrong…”

“ _Usually_ …” John muttered and Sherlock breathed chuckle against his neck.

“Okay, maybe I’m not right all the time, but…but one thing I’m quite sure of is…um…I mean, I don’t know for sure but…” the detective took a deep breath and pulled away, turning John gently around to face him.

John still felt a stab of guilt when he saw the state of Sherlock's face but he pushed that aside, if this was going where he thought it was going, this could be very important indeed.

“What I’m trying to say, John Watson…” Sherlock swallowed, clutching John's shoulders under his hands “Is that…I think, I’m in love with you as well.”

John's mouth went dry, he knees were weak but the most evident thing about him was the idiotic smile that spread across his face like warm butter.

Sherlock's face was beet red but he was also smiling and it was the closest John had ever seen him to a proper smile.

And it was beautiful.

John wanted to know how long Sherlock had felt this way about him, wanted to know everything about how he felt when he first laid eyes on him; hoping that it was the same reaction that John had got when he first laid eyes on Sherlock.

But for now he was too happy, he could barely speak.

Without thinking, John leant forwards and went to bring their lips together.

Just millimetres from Sherlock's mouth, Sherlock pulled away frantically and John tried to hide the hurt expression on his face.

“J-John what are you doing?” this wasn’t a statement of contort, this was an honest question.

Oh, virgin, seeing it now.

John smiled sweetly, the last thing he wanted to do was make Sherlock feel embarrassed about his sexual status.

The good doctor advanced once more until their lips were almost touching.

“I’m going to kiss you.” He spoke, feeling Sherlock's breath panting out against his face.

John brushed their lips lightly together and relished in Sherlock's gasp, his eyelashes fluttered slightly and John felt them on his cheek, tickling him with butterfly kisses.

John repeated, a little harder this time and more precise, dragging his lips over Sherlock's incredibly soft ones like a bold stroke of a brush.

“Oh John.” Sherlock gasped and applied his own desperate pressure clumsily. “I want…I can’t…John, teach me” the sleuth panted and John felt a sense of pride well up in his chest.

He was going to give Sherlock his first proper kiss.

“Close your eyes Sherlock.” He whispered against the other’s lips gently and watched as Sherlock did just that. Gently John applied pressure and Sherlock winced, hissing as the cut of his lip stung.

He would have to be careful with that in the way.

“Just…” John was driving Sherlock back against the wall again almost out of habit “…Move your lips with mine, gently, do whatever feels right” he purred and Sherlock nodded awkwardly.

Slowly at first, all too conscious of the bust lip that was making Sherlock hiss in pain, John ran his hands up Sherlock's forearms and back again; just relaxing the tense and confused detective.

For once, Sherlock was a fish out of water and he just so happened to be trespassing on John's area.

He could feel Holmes trembling under his fingers and John comfortingly brought a hand up to rake through Sherlock's curled locks.

Sherlock purred… _fucking purred_ in appreciation and moved the angle of his head a little more so he could get to John better.

Jesus, this was nice, just this. Just them kissing, no rush of fingernails and tongues like with his other partners, just this.

Sherlock moaned gently against his mouth and fuck everything, John could feel his blood take a sudden migration to the south.

 _Oh god_ , his head felt so light that he hadn’t realised what he’d done until Sherlock moaned in approval and slight pain.

John's mind snapped into place and he realised that he’d swiped his tongue against Sherlock's lower (bust) lip.

“Oh John, that was…good…can you…” but John didn’t need telling twice (or once really) and this time he allowed his tongue to linger on the velvety skin of Sherlock's lips.

Sherlock keened and pulled John closer, draping his arms tentatively over the doctor’s back.

“Open your mouth.” The doctor said in a husky voice and Sherlock practically _whimpered_ as he did what he was told.

Within seconds John was exploring the detective’s warm mouth with his tongue, stroking over teeth and gums as Sherlock's tongue moved with his shyly.

He was a quick learner.

Sherlock's legs had all but given way now and it took all the strength the doctor had left just to keep him pinned to the wall.

He was all too aware of his slowly growing hard-on but tried to will it away, he really didn’t want to scare Sherlock off.

As if on cue, Sherlock moaned loudly into John’s mouth and rutted against him purely by accident and over stimulation.

John groaned and all the air was knocked out of him at the sudden friction and quietly cursed as his erection grew to full hardness in a matter of seconds.

Sherlock was getting bolder now and John hoped that he hadn’t felt his hard on against his leg when he had thrust forwards.

Suddenly it was John's time to moan as Sherlock's thigh rammed rather confidently between his legs like it had meant to be there all along.

“Ah, Sh-Sherlock!” he whimpered and broke the kiss but Sherlock seemed to be having none of it as he brought his mouth back down and swiped his tongue into John's mouth, tasting him like a kitten and purring all the while.

“Jesus Ch-Christ, Sherlock!” he cried and rutted against Sherlock's thigh, lost in pure, blissful friction.

John helped Sherlock deepen the kiss half way between moans from both parties. He had no idea why Sherlock was mewling until he felt it poking against his hip.

John smirked and grabbed Sherlock’s hips, earning a shudder from the man as he pulled himself of the other’s thigh and aligned their crotches.

 He didn’t do anything yet, just teasing as he slowly rubbed up against Sherlock, earning bewildered cry as he tried to come to terms with the new sensations he was feeling.

Breaking the kiss, the doctor looked up into Sherlock's good eye.

“Are you okay?” he asked in all seriousness and Sherlock almost died on the spot.

“Of course I’m alright you idiot…just…” the detective let out a deep groan as he tried to thrust his hips into the doctors, evidently stopped by his warm hands holding his waist.

This was bliss, this was bloody _nirvana_.

Just watching the usually so stoic sleuth unravel like this and to feel so intimate to him was just the definition of heaven.

John wet his lips and looked down, his cock throbbed as he saw Sherlock's erection straining against his trousers.

“How long has it been since you’ve had an erection?” the good doctor purred in Sherlock's ear and teasingly grinded against him.

The detective let rip a sensual, guttural groan and John could have come just from that.

“I can’t…I can’t…oh god _John!_ ”

“Can’t what?” John continued to whisper, grinding with more force now.

He rotated his hips against Sherlock in a way that made them both groan in in carnal pleasure.

“I can’t remember…I can’t…ah, John…”

This was the first time John had ever experienced Sherlock Holmes to come undone in such a way that he couldn’t even string sentences together and good _god_ John loved it.

Suddenly, John stopped moving altogether and Sherlock whined, attempting to rut into the doctor once more but stopped when John knelt between his legs.

 Sherlock glanced down in confusion and met John's eyes as he stared up at him. His pupils had blown up almost an immeasurable amount and Sherlock was certain that if he checked his pulse, it would be hammering faster than a go-cart.

“What are you doing down there…?”

 _‘Oh god, his naivety is killing me’_ John chuckled but it still didn’t stop him from undoing Sherlock's zip slowly and freeing his member from its confines.

Sherlock gasped and squirmed a little as the pressure was relieved from his cock.

“What are you do- _oh!_ ”

John gave Sherlock no time to speak before he sank his mouth onto the other’s member, it was either sink or swim from here on out because John had never attempted anything like this with a man before.

It couldn’t be that hard could it? (no pun intended, because it definitely _was_ hard… _very_ hard)

John just tried to imagine what would feel good for him so he slowly withdrew from the hot erection and sensually swirled his tongue around the head.

Sherlock moaned open mouthed and thrust up a little but John once again restrained his narrow hips.

Pulling his mouth away and spitting into his palm, John took the member into one of his hands and pumped it slowly, rubbing his thumb under the glans and pushing the foreskin gently back.

Sherlock's legs were shaking now and when John looked up his face was a picture of porn mag pleasure, his head thrown back against the wall and his mouth hanging open allowing obscenely sexy noises to spill out.

John could feel pre-ejaculation seep from his erection at the sight of him.

Panting now, John once again took the erection into his mouth and rubbed his tongue against the underside roughly, drinking up the moans and pleads of pleasure that came pouring out of the detective’s mouth.

He was holding out particularly well for a virgin but the doctor knew it wouldn’t last so, withdrawing his mouth from Sherlock once again, he stood up.

John was pretty sure Sherlock had some murderous intent behind those glassy eyes but he ignored it for now, instead he made work of freeing his own, fully hard erection.

Sherlock watched in what seemed like whole interest and as John undid himself, moaning quietly as some of the pressure was relieved.

His dark blue eyes zeroed in on Sherlock once more and Sherlock whimpered under the intense gaze.

“Are you good?” he breathlessly panted, just to be sure.

Sherlock didn’t trust his voice so he just nodded enthusiastically, allowing his eyes to wonder down to John's erection. John groaned under the studying stare and slowly stroked his hand up the inside of Sherlock's thigh.

Sherlock shivered and moaned John's names under his breathe, something that could have had John coming right there and then.

Without warning he opened Sherlock’s thighs and slide between them, aligning their erections and beginning to thrust slowly.

“Oh-oh _John!”_ Sherlock keened, mewling and moaning all at the same time as he thrust his hips clumsily to meet John's.

John groaned low in his throat and had to stop himself from biting down on Sherlock's neck so it made a mark…no, another day maybe.

Sherlock was trembling harder than he was before and John could tell he was close from his erratic breathing. His hands scrambled to grab hold of something, anything, for support.

That of which seemed to be John's arse.

 _Oh god,_ he had no idea how unintentionally dirty he was being right now.

Their thrusts got more and more erratic, their erections slipping over each other easily due to spit and pre-come and then suddenly Sherlock stopped breathing.

His back arched up off the wall and he threw his head back with a soft grunt, crying out John's name as he came heavily between them.

Just the sight of the stoic detective strung out like that made the doctor topple slowly after him. Lights prickled his vision and stiffened his spine as he came with an almost animalistic growl, riding off his orgasm in lazy thrusts.

Sherlock had fallen limp against John, panting heavily as he came down from his high…from his first orgasm in a long, long time John suspected.

Watson slowly lowered them both to the floor where he took Sherlock into his arms and hugged the very living daylights out of him. Sherlock grunted uncomfortably and John suddenly remembered about his battered face.

Panic and doctors instinct crept up his spine but when he looked down into his arms, he realised Sherlock had passed out, his battered face calm and peaceful as it rose and fell in time with John's chest.

His bust lip has split once more and was now bleeding down his chin, John wiped it slightly but didn’t bother too much in fear of waking the man.

The doctor smiled to himself and lay down on the floor, Sherlock cradled safely in his arms. He almost never wanted to let go, he didn’t want him to go missing again, he didn’t want him to get hurt again.

 _‘What a strange day it’s been’_ John thought to himself, pushing those thoughts to the back of his mind.

He would have to badger Sherlock for all the details on the case tomorrow, but for now he let him sleep, god knows when he’ll do it again.

Sleep that is.

Although John did start to wonder whether this was only a onetime thing, but before his mind could trek into that dangerous territory, it slipped into a very heavy, post sex slumber.

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt for this story was given to me by the amazing trajektoria  
> (or i-owe-you-a-tardis on tumblr)  
> her prompt was...  
> Sherlock goes on a case alone without telling John about it and he comes back with a black eye. John is upset because something worse could have happen and he wouldn't even know that Sherlock needed saving. Sherlock grumbles in response that why John would even care, he was on a date with one of those dumb women. And John snarls that she had dumped, claiming that he cared more for Sherlock than her. And Sherlock is surprised and asks for confirmation. John reluctantly gives one and they finally kiss. And then smut if you want.
> 
>  
> 
> Bonus points for...  
> -if he had a bust lip.  
> -if Sherlock was an awkward but eager virgin.
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for reading, please comment and leave kudos!
> 
> Also, follow me on tumblr! my url is graduating-cumberlady


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